


strings of whispers

by lady_mab



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Secret Samol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: small moments of lem and emmanuel going on 'adventures'secret samol 2017 gift (part 1) for @biofluorescens on twitter!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a softer world: 917 (We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time)

The stars dance overhead, and the remains of the fire pop and sizzle as it slowly burns out. 

Emmanuel keeps his arms tucked behind his head, counting all the missing constellations. This far from Nacre, nothing is familiar. No, that’s a lie -- a few things are. 

Lem’s voice, caught on a soft hum, is familiar. The weight of his presence, just out of sight. The warmth of his smile, of his touch, playing on a loop in the back of his mind. 

Emmanuel uses these as tethers. 

“Are you awake?” Lem asks, pausing in his song. 

He tilts his head back, but can’t find anything while looking upside-down. So he rolls onto his stomach and finds Lem sitting just outside of the light from the fire, a stack of cards in his hand. “How did you know?” 

“You keep sighing.” 

This time, he at least manages to catch the sigh before it can escape his lips. “Do I sigh a lot?” 

“When you think no one is listening.” Lem hesitates, then puts the cards aside. Even though Emmanuel cannot see the pattern, he knows that there is one. There is a preciseness to Lem’s movements when he is conducting a spell. “Are you okay?” 

“I am fine.” The lie comes easy, because he has said it so many times. To people in Nacre, to people in Rosemerrow, to anyone he has ever known. “Do not let me interrupt you.” 

“Too late,” Lem replies, though there’s no edge to the words. He huffs a sigh of his own as he pushes himself to his feet. He does not move quietly, and Emmanuel wonders if he even knows how -- what with all the belts and rings and beads. But it still comes as a surprise when he drops down onto his bed roll and flops onto his back to mimic Emmanuel’s pose from moments before. “Were you watching the stars?” 

Emmanuel pauses, then lies back as well. “I should like to learn their stories one day.” 

“We have names for all of them.” He lifts a hand, but instead of pointing to the sky, he reaches for Emmanuel’s. 

He twines their fingers together and lets their hands drop back into the grass between them. “The Archivists do?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m pretty sure the Archives have every name for every star. You never know when you’ll need it for a Pattern.” His expression is hard to make out in the darkness, so instead, Emmanuel studies the lines of his face where it blocks the starlight. “I meant the Orcs. We believe them to be ancestor-gods of sorts. Lord of the Western Wind and Broken Wheels,” he says, pointing at one that Emmanuel cannot pick out of the tapestry. “Duchess of The First Floor in Official Buildings, and Commander of the Steam on Summer Mornings.” 

“You’re making this up.” 

“I swear, I’m not.” 

“First floor in official buildings?” He laughs, and Lem’s hand tightens around his. “That’s not a thing.” 

“You would be surprised how many little things we could come up with to give someone ownership over.” 

Emmanuel wishes that he could see Lem’s expression, to know what sort of face he is making at those words. The stars offer no help and the fire is only the warmest of glows at the heart of an ember. Idly, he wonders if _useless starlight_ and _glowing coals_ are things the Orcs possess. “Tell me about them.” 

“What, first floors of official buildings?” 

He laughs again, and shakes his head. “About the stars.” 

Lem’s voice is a song, the careful explanation of the constellations and histories written in the sky forming the staves of music and the notes dancing across the page. Emmanuel drifts off to sleep, imagining that there is a glowing ember in his chest where his heart should be, and that they grip a handful of starstuff between their palms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a softer world: 621 (I love the way your face lights up when someone says “it might be dangerous”)

“You’ll want to be careful,” the innkeeper says as they hand back the key. “A lot of folks coming back down that path have said its been getting more dangerous by the week.” 

“That’s alright,” Lem replies, hitching his bag up on his shoulders and ignoring the small sound that Emmanuel makes. “We’re adventurers. 

The innkeeper makes a sound that doesn’t  _ quite _ sound like Emmanuel’s but gets a similar point across. Still, they smile fondly if not wanly and nod their head. “Best of luck to you both, then.” 

They head outside the building and into the crisp morning. Lem starts off down the path without hesitation. 

“Why do you say that?” Emmanuel asks, his pace considerably slower. 

“Say what?” 

“That we’re adventurers.” 

Lem stops and waits for Emmanuel to catch up. “Well, we are, aren’t we?” 

“Inasmuch as you and I happen to be going on a trip to a place neither of us knows, sure, but ‘adventurers’ implies a degree of…” He waves a hand, trying to think of the word. “ _Professionalism_ that we lack.” 

Lem hopes that his frown doesn’t look like a pout because it sort of feels like one. “I  _ am _ an adventurer--” 

“You are an archivist.” 

“An adventurer of a _sort_.” He gestures to Emmanuel, who cocks his head, daring Lem to say what they both know is coming. “And  _ you’re _ a pirate.” 

“I am a _baker_ ,” Emmanuel corrects, “who had to serve a term aboard a pirate vessel.” 

“I’m a decent swordsman, if I say so myself. You held your own against me.” 

“Lem,” he says fondly, and reaches out to cup Lem’s jaw between his hands. “I have seen you fight under other conditions, and I have seen how good you can be. That was me at my best, and I could barely keep up with you.” Emmanuel leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “We are not adventurers.” 

Lem grumbles but accepts the kiss, and the second one in response to his protests. “Alright. BUt I still stand by the fact that we will be able to handle a little danger.” 

Emmanuel laughs and shakes his head in mock exasperation. “Did you know that you make this little…” Again, he pauses, still smiling, and gestures to his expression. “This look on your face. When you hear the word danger. It is like you light up.” 

Lem thinks he might be blushing. “I do not.” 

“Yes, you do, and I find it very endearing, if not a little troublesome.” 

Lem leans into the touch. “You know that if anything were to happen, that I would protect you.” 

“Of course. I am just afraid that one day you will hear of an adventure, something far too dangerous, and you will take off without me. And I will… be left wondering if you are okay, or if i will see you again, or--” 

He leans in to cut Emmanuel off with a kiss. And another and another til the tension leaves his shoulders. But there’s still concern in his eyes, so Lem reaches out and smooths a thumb across his brow. “I wouldn’t leave you behind. No exploring towers or… or meeting gods until you’re ready for that level of adventure.” 

Emmanuel laughs, and it’s a bright and delighted sound that makes Lem’s heart flutter. “Alright. Only little adventures until then.” 

“What about medium sized ones?” 

“Do not push it.” 

“Okay, okay.” Lem holds up his hands in defeat. “Let’s go on our little adventure for now.” 


End file.
